Last Request
by ScribblesinDirt
Summary: Fem Harry/LV eventual ship. More explained in Author's note. Starts at the grave yard scene.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note – Warning: Contains Context***

 **So a while back I had a different account and a couple of fics up but drama happened. I gave up on writing for a while. And I can't promise that this will last…but here we go another post. I'm posting this mainly because of Mksfroogle. Her story Marie Potter and the Deal inspired me to actually work on this idea. While I prefer a more clinically psychopathic Voldemort, I really enjoyed her fem Potter's personality and attitude. **

***Now this is a continuation of an idea that I only typed up the prolog for originally. Basically Harry is a girl, looks like her mother but has her father's eyes, and was sorted in Slytherin. To go along with that I put Hermione in Ravenclaw, Ron in Hufflepuff, and only left Nevil in Gryffindor. If I don't drop off the face of the earth I'll go back and write the rest of the differences but even assuming all the rest is the same as canon, you should be able to follow along.**

 **My original paring was going to be Fem Harry and Draco but now I have this idea. So while I plan on going back and writing fem Harry going through Hogwarts with the elements I've just stated, that will be a separate story from this point (Graveyard scene) on. So I'll continue this as its own entity with a LV ship. I'll post the Draco ship with background events later.**

 **Oh! Also a warning, there is something here but don't freak out – I'm not making this some pedo-perv story. While this does scene does start her down the road to thinking of LV as a love interest, nothing will happen until she's graduated. I'm not exactly sure how that relationship will develop, but I'm aiming for a remorse/ Beauty and the Beast sort of thing.**

 **This was typed up right before Philosophy class so I realize I say _she_ a lot, but I probably won't edit that for a bit.**

 **Questions Comments Concerns? Please PM me or leave a review.**

 **As always I lay claim to nothing.**

 **/ridiculously long Author Note.**

"Any last requests, girl?" His mocking tone made her want to rage, but something in her had given up. This. This was the moment her life ended. She could feel it. Her mind resonated with the truth. All illusion of a normal future had been stripped from her when Cedric had died in front of her. Heather made the conscious decision to acknowledge that. There would be no chance of a fair fight. This is the moment she had to give up her life.

She didn't have to fake the fear, or the tears threatening to spill at the thought of her impending end. The tremors were at the cost of her pride, but really – really she had lost that already. What sort of hero lets someone die? What sort of savior is the cause of evil's return? So she let her watering eyes meet the dark lord's cruelly amused gaze and said, "My first kiss. If…"She hesitated and some snickers emanated from the surrounding death eaters. "If you're going to kill me," Heather continued more firmly, because it didn't matter how ridiculous she sounded if she was going to die. "I want to have my first kiss."

Obvious shock flickered to life on Voldemort's face. It was quickly replaced with a sneer. She had seen it though. Surprising an evil wizard who was five times older than her was something… At least she had managed that much. "I have no interest in children." That sparked her defiance, and Heather threw her shoulders back and met his eyes with a glare. "And I have no interest in monsters, but you're the one who offered to hear my last request." She gestured at her cut arm and said as imperiously as she could manage, "You've taken _everything_ from me and now want my life. It's a small thing to ask."

Trying to sound as formal as any pure blood, wishing for the eloquence Draco had when he chose to use it, she mustered as much dignity as she could and faced her enemy squarely. "In exchange for giving me my first kiss I, Heather Lilly Potter, freely give you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, my life." A feeling of magic clicked across the graveyard. She let her glare fade into a bitter grimace. "An oath like that should get around my seeming immunity to death." She folded her arms around herself, trying to tell her pride that it was a show of attitude not a hug.

Everyone was silent, even the ones who had found her amusing before. She had made an oath, like a proper Potter heir. She was sure Voldemort was considering was just killing her, after all he had her wand and she was defenseless... But she had pointed out that by now Heather _should_ legitimately be dead several times over. Add that to her magic sealed oath and he would have to have a pretty decent reason to refuse her. If Slytherin had taught her anything it was the importance of your word when backed by magic.

Right as the waiting was becoming unbearable; the dark lord raised his wand in mock salute. "I am lord Voldemort and I will grant Heather Lilly Potter her first kiss in exchange for her life." Again the magic snapped. While not an unbreakable it was a magically binding oath. If he kissed her, she had no choice but to give him her life. A part of her wanted to run, because if he didn't kiss her, or she ran and kissed someone else first, Heather didn't have to give him her life. It almost seemed worse in a way, having _chosen_ the terms of her death than fighting in vain anyway. She had made this decision, but no almost 15 year old should have to _choose_ how to die.

Maybe he also realized how easily she could negate the terms, or maybe he was just eager to end this farce, because without hesitation he strode over to her and grabbed her chin. His long fingers were cold, despite having just been formed in a caldron, and held her firmly. Maybe he could see her desire to flee. Her heart raced in fear, and a detached part of her realized she was more afraid of Voldemort kissing her than killing her.

His eyes met hers but the dark lord was unreadable as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers. She flinched instinctually, but his other hand held her by the arm, keeping her close. She felt something warm and wet brushing against her lips and she gasped. His tongue slipped in easily. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding and yet she began to relax as everything seemed to center around the taste of copper. As he pulled away she felt something inside go with him. Heather felt colder without his warmth and empty as their magic fulfilled her end of the bargain.

He let her go and she fell to her knees. She felt like she should be crying but didn't have enough energy left to even have the feeling of despair, let alone express it. She could sort of feel him for a moment, almost like being in two places at once. To the death eaters it looked like Voldemort had upheld his side and only needed to finish off the broken girl at his feet. But as she regained her equilibrium, Heather could see the fury in his eyes. He knew what she had done.

Feeling somewhat smug, despite the horridness of the situation Heather made sure her voice carried across the graveyard. "I promised you my life Riddle, and it is yours to keep, but I did not promise you my death." He could make her suffer, he could drive her insane, and he could do a great many awful things as long as he was careful – but he couldn't kill her. Her life was now tied to his. Neither could live if the other died. Fifteen and expected to fight a war, never been in love and tied to a man, not even graduated and already hoping to die. This was her life. Heather stood on shaky legs. This was her life and it wasn't over just quite yet.

She really hadn't expected him to figure it out so quickly. The death eaters shifted restlessly, not understanding what was happening. Voldemort was just standing there, staring at her furiously. Seeing how fast he had figured out her plan she really couldn't let him have too much time to consider the ramifications of action. She tackled him. He hadn't been ready for that and Heather wrestled her wand from him and ran. Likewise surprised, it took his followers a moment to react, which gave her a chance to slip out of the circle of bodies. As spells shot past her she weaved in and out of the tombstones, running for the body of Cedric. Voldemort's voice rang out "Alive, keep her alive you fools!"

The cup lay next to him and she clutched him tightly and grabbed the portkey, desperately hoping that it would take her back. Despite her resolution to die Heather was relieved when she appeared in the champion's ring.

 **Time Skip Beginning of Year Five, Sorting Feast**

It was hard to convince her heart to slow down, her mind not to stutter and freeze. It was not love, or lust, just obsession that caused her to fixate on Voldemort. Obsession mixed with self-preservation. He was not interested in children he said, thank Merlin, and no matter how old she got surely she would always be a child to someone five times her age? Regardless, her life literally was Voldemort. What was she going to do?

When Heather had given him her first kiss it was a gamble. Hermione pointed out that muggleborn innovation was often due to not having been raised to understand the basic nature of magic. Believing that magic could accomplish anything led to trying things commonly accepted as impossible. An oath is made of things of equal value, ideally trading things of a similar nature. There was no reason she couldn't give him her life with a kiss. That was how dementors took lives and that was how, in a sense, marriage worked. He was only living a half-life really, giving him hers probably fleshed him out. Her plan, hastily thought out, was that if he took her life, which theoretically should be joined with his own sustaining force, it would damage or kill him. Realizing she was emulating Hermione in her thoughts, Heather dropped her head onto the table.

She hadn't expected him to kiss her like _that_ , but she had expected to die. She had only hoped that everything would come together and she would take him down with her. She hadn't counted on surviving. Her life was tied to the most evil man of the last three generations. While it didn't seem to be giving him any measure of control over her, it didn't really help her either. The headmaster refused to let her go off and kill herself – in fact he had made light of her situation. 'We'll solve this Riddle yet, Heather. Never fear.' His eyes weren't twinkling though.

It had been months and she still couldn't erase the taste of him _in her mouth_ from her mind. Heather wished she could forget it because out of everything, that should be the least of her worries. Like the fact Voldemort was their defense teacher this year. At least there was the curse. Surely they were overdue for a death caused by that thing. A sharp kick to her leg made her sit up and glare across the table at Draco, who looked back with disdain. "Whatever developments of the political climate Potter, you still are representing this house." She stiffened, years of conditioning correcting her posture and expression. When she was finally settled, legs crossed at the ankle and face in a pleasantly neutral expression, she nodded her acknowledgement at Draco. "You're right Malfoy, united front."

He rolled his eyes at her icy tone, but let it go. The entire house was tense. Those in the know were treading carefully, and those who weren't were smart enough to be hesitant. The balance of power was currently in flux. She let her eyes scan the table pausing briefly at Pansy. She was usually a good barometer for the house feelings. Today her usually expressive face was so carefully happy it was frightening. Heather risked a glance at the head table. Professor Snape's face was also empty, but his eyes glittered angrily when she met them. Dumbledore acted as if nothing was out of norm for the welcoming feast. He was chatting gaily with the new defense professor who barely replied.

Despite her better judgement, her eyes hesitated on _Professor_ Riddle. He looked like an older version of the prefect she had met in her second year, maybe late twenties. No sign of the monster that had been spawned from the graveyard. She finally wrenched her gaze away and tried to smoothly transition into looking over the rest of the houses. At first she couldn't see anyone who even suspected that something was wrong. But then a few still forms caught her attention.

At Ravenclaw, Hermione was looking seriously in her direction and Heather nodded. Of course she would remember his name. Ginny Weasley at Gryffindor was white faced and shaking, her eyes locked on Riddle. She recognized him; she _knew_ the devil himself had come to stay. Nevil was so very carefully not looking at the head table that he might as well have been staring like Ginny. Ron was giving his sister and the new professor considering looks – the Hufflepuff boy would figure it out soon. _And if I can see them, he can too._ She looked one last time at Riddle, but his expression was unreadable and his focus seemed to be on the Headmaster's rambling.

Finally she began eating, not really paying any mind to the careful conversations around her. She cleared her mind, trying to give herself a moment of silence, a place of stillness, a void where she could hide. For a moment everything faded away and she relaxed. Then came a trickling of something. Just like an itch, once noticed it became worse. It felt like the taste of _him_ in her mouth. Invasive and impossible to ignore. Everyone began pushing back from the table, and reality flooded back into her awareness. Even though it was no longer the only thing in her mind, it was still there. Faint but real.

Draco jostled past her. "Better hurry Potter, wouldn't want you to be confused with a first year." Heather rolled her eyes. At least something in her life was the same. "I'll have you know Malfoy, I'm not short I'm fun sized." A couple of her classmates looked confused, obviously having no reference for her comment. Draco though, turned, his cheeks tinged pink. "Oh? Is that what the Dark Lord said when you kissed him?" And just like that she was back to feeling unbalanced. She couldn't believe they were doing this here, in a dungeon corridor instead of the common room where most of Slytherin politics were discussed. _Maybe this isn't about politics though._

No one moved – whatever this was, it was going to be public. Trying to return the barb Heather made her tone taunting. "What Malfoy, jealous? Don't worry he told me he doesn't like little girls." She gripped her wand under her sleeve. She _wanted_ to start this fight. "Oh wait, I guess that means you don't have a chance either." His already flushed face darkened and his expression twisted into fury. He raised his wand and Heather did the same, but a voice rang out halting their attack.

"Can someone please explain to me _why_ it is that the majority of my House is lingering in the halls?" Snape's silky voice parted the crowed like Moses and the red sea. She slipped her wand away and stepped in front of Draco. Heather really didn't want a detention on the first day of the year. "We decided we wanted to lend consequence to your entrance sir." His eye brow lifted at the sir, she only used respect in his presence when in trouble. "To lend weight to the concept of house unity." Draco smoothly stepped in beside her. No doubt he also remembered that detentions with her never led to anything good. "We voted and it was _almost_ unanimous Professor." She tried not to let his sideways glance nettle her.

"I see." Snape's tone spoke volumes about just what he saw, but he let it go. To be fair, when he hosted her detention things didn't end well for him either. The professor's glance over the rest of the crowed was conspicuously avoided; but when he continued down the passage, robes billowing, the rest of the house followed. Draco waited until the majority had passed before stating in a low voice, "This isn't over Potter." Heather stared at him. She almost pointed out she didn't even know what _this_ was, but finally just said, "You started it" Before following the rest of the procession back to the commons.

* * *

It was ridiculous really, how the female kind kept getting the best of him. First Potter's wife and now this little girl. Many mothers had laid down their lives for their children and many young girls made promises with their lips, and yet somehow these women managed what no other had. Blood wards that no curse breaker could tear down based on, if Severus was to be believed, the most tenuous of familial ties. A soul bond that did more to bind him to life than the darkest of rituals. Such impossibilities.

The game had changed again. The prophecy was now essential – the clue to getting rid of this threat must reside within it. While he was sure Dumbledore would be only too happy to let his newest defense instructor reveal himself to the fools at the ministry, he obviously wanted to avoid that for as long as possible. Voldemort hoped not only to gain the prophecy, but also mitigate the political influence of the Golden Girl. While she had made little use of if before now, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the war reached the light of day. Swaying public opinion now, would stave off attempts to form a proper rebellion later.

With his contacts it was easy to secure his 'cursed' position, overriding any concerns of the headmaster. From here he could not only keep an eye on his two greatest enemies, but also ridicule their attempts to prove his revival. After all, Tom Riddle was an upstanding member of the community. In addition, while he happened to be at Hogwarts he could shape the minds of the children he taught... So much Voldemort was able to accomplish right out in the open, and no one who knew or suspected could do anything about it. It was almost enough to make up for the incessant nattering of the old man. Dumbledore acted so very pleased to have his most talented pupil back, despite having refused him this very job all those years ago.

He kept his eyes on the old coot as he surveyed the great hall with his peripheral vision. Only a handful of students seemed leery of him, the majority were actually making bets about how long he would last. He took note of the few who obviously knew something and then turned his attention to the girl. He only made token responses to Dumbledore's inane comments, but apparently nothing more was required. She kept sneaking glances at him, and had made her own accounting of the general level of ignorance in the room.

 _This is just the start, just wait until that stupidity turns into outright hostility._ Despite everything the girl held herself well – unlike many of her generation she was capable of basic etiquette. More so even than the normal standard of decorum held to members of the Slytherin House. Her spine was straight, head perfectly level, and legs crossed modestly even though she was seated at a bench. It occurred to him that not only could he keep an eye on the girl's activities, but he could possibly gain insight into her personality. It is after all, one thing to be under constant threat and be told you're the one who has to stop it. It was quite another to stand up to the challenge where others had failed and expect to succeed.

 _She tied her life to mine in the hopes that I would kill her. What sort of girl accepts victory at all costs?_ Voldemort mused as he ate. _Less of a sacrificial lamb and more of wolf, with a dominance or death mentality._ As he considered this, he had stopped even giving the illusion of attention to Dumbledore and was quite surprised when he felt a light touch on his arm. The old man was leaning in with a concerned look on his face, but his eyes were twinkling madly with some mischief. "Now Tom, being as well preserved as you are, and unmarried, I feel that I must warn you that relationships between students and professors are completely prohibited." Startled, Voldemort could only stare at the headmaster. "But please do be gentle when putting down any young girls overzealous advances. After all, there is no greater power than love, whether it is that of an idea or a person."

Collecting himself, Voldemort – seventy years old, so powerful that people hesitated to say his name fifteen years after his supposed death, the immortal and greatest dark wizard of his time – solemnly promised not to succumb to the advances of hormonal teenage girls. Inside however, he was rather affronted that anyone would ever consider that a young girl could get the best of him. He ignored his mind when it pointed out that the Potter girl had at least three times so far. _That was sheer dumb luck._


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Added a Voldemort Viewpoint tidbit on the last chapter, and made some minor edits. Not actually important, just thought you ought to know.**

Just because she was supposed to be dead, that was no reason to be unsociable. Heather's decision to resume the tea parties she had hosted third year seemed popular. Of course most were probably RSVP'ing so they could find out what happened at the end of last year. The Slytherins all knew, mostly because Draco couldn't keep his mouth shut, but the rest of the school was surely dying of curiosity. She didn't know what to say and the day was rapidly approaching. Heather hadn't even told her friends everything, not sure how they would take it. Her aunt's words rang in her ears, filling her mind with doubt. _I thought I had brought you up to be a proper lady, and you act like a common slag!_ Dumbledore had been right to tell her relatives that Heather's actions might have given Voldemort a free pass through the blood wards…But the summer had been hellish. She wasn't sure she could stand it if her friends also thought she had been … improper… with that _monster._

The bell rang signaling the end of History of Magic, leaving Heather no closer to deciding what to say during the tea party. Unfortunately next was Defense with the Devil Himself, and she couldn't afford to zone out in that class. Despite her misgivings, Tom Riddle proved to be the most competent defense teacher she had ever had. The first couple of weeks had been a grueling revision of everything they _should_ have learned the past four years, filling in the gaps that could have been dangerous on the battle field. While it had been agonizing to listen to air headed girls asking the devil for lessons on how to handle a wand, Heather had to admit less people lost their wands to elementary tricks like _expelliarmus._

First year was supposed to have given them a decent overview of the various types of dark arts and the different strategies to defend against them, second (in which they had actually learned less than nothing) was supposed to be the most basic aspects of defensive spells, third was dark creatures and was the only subject Professor Riddle had deemed them acceptable, fourth was supposed to be an introduction into the darker parts of what an evil wizard could do and why it was dangerous to delve deep into the dark arts… Interestingly Riddle admitted that he could not make up for their lack of a proper education and offered extra credit to anyone who decided to self-study in addition to the regular curriculum. While Heather and her friends _were_ studying outside of class, only Hermione was turning in the extra work. The beginning of next month was going to be the start of the material that was actually for their year – dueling simulation.

For the first time the class had assigned seating, alternating gender and house. Heather had ended up at the front, but Professor Riddle never acknowledged her except in an official capacity. It didn't bother her, and really neither did the idol worship from half the school of the new professor. What Heather couldn't help dwelling on though, and pointing out to her friends, was just how good Professor Riddle was as a teacher. With him right there helping them overcome their ignorance, it was easy to see how large the gap between school children and Lord Voldemort really was. It honestly seemed impossible to catch up. Power was one thing, between the four of them they were all above average in that regard, but in experience and knowledge it was sad how out classed they were by the Devil in Disguise.

Professor Riddle was the last into the class, as always, and he began immediately handing back the exam they had to gauge how far they had come the past weeks. As always she had full marks, which had shocked her the first few times it had happened. Especially on the first day exam of what they should already know, when she had snarkily answered _what practical uses have you put to DADA in your everyday life?_ with 'DADA had been keeping me alive since 1981.' She didn't dare tune him out when he began going over the answers. Not only was he a threat her continued existence, he had a habit of calling on students with particularly good answers to share them instead of just telling the class what the official answer was. People had lost house and grade points for failing to pay attention during reviews.

Just before the bell rang and Heather had escaped the Devil for another day, he asked both her and Zabini to stay behind. As the rest of the class packed and filed out, Heather remained in frozen in her seat. Her stomach seemed to have turned into curdled milk. Zabini packed up his bag and stood at the front of the class, his face easily empty as always. The part of her not busy feeling sick inside wondered if he actually had any other expressions. Once they were alone, Professor Riddle stood and addressed the boy. "Mr. Zabini, you are aware of the current political power struggle?" Heather couldn't believe how calm he was as he nodded. "And you plan to follow Lady Zabini's counsel and remain neutral?" The boy's voice was even as he replied. "Yes Sir."

Looking satisfied Professor Riddle nodded and gestured to the exit. "I have things I need to discuss with Miss Potter. If you could wait by the door and escort her to your next class, I'll give you both passes when we're through." Zabini nodded and went to hover at the other end of the classroom. Finally Riddle's icy eyes feel on Heather, the professor mask gone. Her uneasiness turned into adrenaline and she stood, unable to remain seated. She was tense, ready for action. Zabini's presence was completely forgotten. "Miss Potter, do you know the reason there is enmity between us?"

Heather's first instinct was to say because he killed people for a living and made her a priority on his hit list, but paused and actually thought about it before responding. He had killed her parents, tried to kill her first year, his diary had tried to kill her second year, and last year had kidnapped her and killed Cedrick Diggory…but why? In his lessons Riddle had made it obvious that he outclassed the combined efforts of everyone she knew, so why was he trying so hard to get rid of her? Heather had only survived thus far out of sheer dumb luck. Her mouth had that copper flavor back as she answered. "For some reason you have decided I am a threat. Also I have taken personal umbrage with your methods of advancement." She didn't tack on the sir, her professor had authority over her – the Devil did not.

He sighed, and somehow the sound was condescending. Heather swallowed, wishing she _knew_ why he wanted her dead so badly. He was like the grim reaper, snatching people away in the dead of night leaving fear and whispered nightmares behind him. It occurred to her that the taste of him was blood. "Ignoring our… history, do you believe you would have ever allied with me?" She shook her head mutely. Despite knowing he wasn't just going to kill her right then and there, Heather hated having this conversation. He shuffled a few papers on his desk, releasing her from his assessing gaze. "Suppose I changed my philosophies. Became more benign in my approach to gaining power. Would you stand aside?" His tone was almost careless, but years of dealing with Slytherins pointed out his overly careful posture. How he had relaxed, trying to send the signal to her subconscious that he wasn't a threat. Like she would ever believe that.

"Even if there was a compromise of some sort…" She hesitated. "You're _evil."_ Heather couldn't think of another way to put it. Everything he did, everything he wanted, was wrong. Even if he stopped overtly trying to kill her, she would still have to fight him. Riddle's eyes met hers sharply. "There is no good or bad Miss Potter, only power and those too weak to seek it. All universal moral principles are idle fantasies1." He leaned forward over the desk, his expression intense. "Change in society rarely occurs without bloodshed and 'illegal' activities. Revolution brings to light all the shades of gray people ignore."

For a moment they just stared at one another. Finally Heather couldn't take it anymore. "Your methods are an especially dark shade of gray." Riddle stood straight abruptly, his slightly bored professor expression back. "As are the headmasters." He scribbled out a note and handed it to her. "Think on it and we shall continue this discussion later. Here is the pass to your next class." Heather took it, glad for the dismissal. She grabbed her things and headed towards the door, pausing before she reached Zabini.

"Would you ever actually consider changing? Or is this all just to see where I stand?" The feeling of drowning, of being so very out of her depth had returned. She didn't know enough, couldn't do enough, and just didn't understand everything that was going on. She was playing a game without knowing the rules or being able to see what her opponent was doing. The professor had begun grading papers, and seemed to pay her little mind as he replied. "Miss Potter, while your trick has bought you a temporary reprieve from my more violent tendencies, it has not given any measure of safety to those you care about." His voice was mild. "I do very little in pursuit of a single purpose."

A bit light headed, Heather left with Zabini beside her. They had barely made it ten steps when he spoke up. "Potter, may I ask why Professor Riddle thinks you can't find your way to our next class by yourself? I was under the impression you were one of the better students in Defense." Her mind was focused on other things, but her mouth answered on automatic. "It wouldn't be proper for us to be alone, as he is unattached." _What are the other purposes? He can't actually want to teach._ Education and world domination were _not_ similar lines of work.

Zabini frowned. "You've had detention with Professor Snape frequently over the past four years." Heather gave up on trying to puzzle it out and gave him her full attention. "Not often alone, and I was considered a child then. My ..." She hesitated, looking for the right word. "Behavior when I met Professor Riddle before was rather improper and as he is an object of female fancy in the school, it's best to prevent anyone from believing we are participating in anything inappropriate."

"Ah." He said with amused understanding. "The Lockhart effect then." Heather sighed. "At least we don't have to worry about a repeat of the Valentines debacle." As they crossed the grounds he asked the question she had been dreading. It wasn't like she could tell the truth, but she had to say something. "Why did you kiss him? No one can figure it out." She slowed her pace, choosing her words carefully. "I thought I was going to die that night. Cedric had." Heather stared out in front of her, shoving back the memories. "I've realized how much living I haven't done, and dying without having kissed _anyone_ seems kind of tragic."

Zabini was quite for a moment. "None of that explains why you kissed _HIM_." He observed. "Especially when I have it on good authority he didn't look like _that_ when he first came back." She met his gaze evenly and said nothing. After all, he was right. She needed a better explanation. He waited a beat and then continued to lead the way to Herbology. "Mother says you're welcome to write to her." His change in subject startled her. "While she doesn't know how to kill with a kiss, she does have some talent at disposing of the difficult men in her life." Having heard the rumors about Lady Zabini, Heather could believe that. One is not widowed seven times by chance.

"I thought the Zabinis were staying out of the coming confrontations?" She asked curiously. It had been the reason that Riddle had chosen him to accompany her. The boy shrugged easily. "Oh we are however, mother feels that every girl needs to learn to use a woman's 'special brand of magic'." His nose wrinkled a bit at the implications, but he continued gamely. "And since you're lacking someone to learn witchly wisdom from... I think you impressed her." Heather contemplated the idea that there was a specific type of magic used by witches to kill or capture men, beyond that of love potions. That thought was followed up by the realization that Zabini had been raised by a woman who devoted herself to said branch of magic.

Heather gave him an apprising look. "I take it being Lady Zabinis _son_ is something of a challenge." Her remark was perhaps personal, but so were his questions. He gave a secretive smirk. "It is difficult at times, being the only stable male presence in her life, but I only have to survive until my majority. Then I'll inherit my father's vault." His expression morphed into one of determination. "After that I'll stay out of her sphere of influence and find myself a less... Creative women to have in my life." Heather made a note to herself to see if there where male equivalent spells to bind a girl to their will. Maybe she should also aspire to a less 'creative' partner in her life.

Her mood, which had actually improved talking to Zabini, plunged again. She wasn't going to get married. Heather's life was tied to her worst enemy. It was only a matter of time before she either had to die for the greater good, or Riddle found a way around her enchantment to finally rid himself of her. When they reached the greenhouse Zabini, ever the perfect gentleman, opened to door for her. Thanking him for his presence, she made her way over to Neville, who had already started the day's work.

As she began pruning the magical vegetation, Heather pondered what she had learned. Zabini had said more things of substance to her in that walk than he had in the past four years. Perhaps if there hadn't been a war brewing, and she hadn't been the girl-who-lived, they would have become friends. Pleasant company aside however, Zabini would never risk publicly – or even privately – aligning with her against his mother's wishes. Perusing an acquaintance with Lady Zabini would be probably be costly, but she might learn how to turn her connection into something besides a dead man's switch. And it would be nice to finally have someone with political clout on her side.

Of course, she would either have to admit having forged that connection, or come up with a really good reason of why she had kissed the Devil and yet been spared. Obviously simple evasion wasn't going to cut it. _And the tea party is tomorrow._ Despite her best intentions, Heather was thinking about what Riddle had said. While she knew it was folly to ascribe omniscience to the Headmaster, it wasn't hard to believe that Professor Dumbledore knew more about the situation than he was telling her. _Knowledge is power, regardless if you learn something or tell others._ She resolved to confront him after class tonight. Whatever he told her would determine how much she told her friends, and how little she told the tea party.

 **1 Marquis de Sade**


	3. Chapter 3

**I believe there are a lot of mistakes here, I'll have to go back and edit everything before too long no doubt. But a couple of ideas popped up out for no where and I figured out exactly how I wanted this story to continue. Thanks for reading.**

 **Not Mine.**

Hocurxes...That explained a lot actually, once she knew what those were. He didn't know how many the monster had made; Dumbledore said he was working on that... Hermione, despite being queen of all things research, couldn't find a hint of those things in the library or in any of her many owl ordered books. The Ravenclaw did however theorize that if acts that went against the grain, such as murder did leave tears in your soul they must be heal-able through opposite acts...leading to a very long discussion on the nature of auras and a tangent about rituals involving the soul - including a voodoo practice that allowed one to capture a dead man's soul in a bottle.

Ron was a bit more practical. If they could find them then they could destroy them. He began background research on the Slytherin line and anything they could find on Tom Riddle before he vanished and returned as Voldemort. He figured knowing more about the enemy would give them clues as to where he could have possibly hidden his soul. Neville helpfully pointed out that if the Elder Malfoy had the diary, then other favored death eaters could possibly have other pieces. He began researching all the families connected or thought to be connected to Voldemort and Malfoy.

Watching them go about their work, occasionally bouncing ideas off of each other Heather felt a dawning horror. These were her friends... and they were acting like a war council. This must have been what it was like for Sirius, Remus, and her family. Growing up in a war. There they were, bright, full of hope and determination, and it hadn't been enough. Sure they had won - through a fluke - and look at the price. So much death came from fighting. It had already begun last year. Cedric was only the beginning.

Slytherin house was already trying to align itself into the right political mindset, ready to fend off the onslaught of hatred that always followed any trouble that spilled into Hogwarts. Draco was setting himself up as a leader with her firmly on the outside if she didn't step in line like everyone else. For a moment she could picture it clearly. Her friends fighting against the enemy… and before the end, against each other.

Heather had been blurring lines since she had gotten into the Wizarding world. Hero but Slytherin. Friends across house lines. Her not quite friendly rivalry with Draco; who despite being a royal prat was somehow always there for her to take her frustrations out on and always taught her things – even if only indirectly. This safe haven of a school in ruins because the entire wizarding world was turning against itself. Before too long things would spill into the defenseless muggle world. All sorts of lines were about to be crossed.

Dumbledore, the Ministry, even her friends were all busy drawing more lines in the sand. 'Voldemort's back', 'no he's not', 'we will fight him'. And they would. They would go down fighting like heroes. And she was being set up, as she always had, as some sort of symbol - maybe even to be their leader...It didn't matter if they beat the devil because in the end they'd still loose. Lose each other, lose faith, and lose their lives. And if HE won...They'd lose all of that and she'd still be alive to see it.

See it and the crumbling of everything they wanted to preserve. Heather would be locked away, safe and sound as the world burned. Until one day he had grown so much more powerful that even killing her wouldn't stop him. She was safe and being safe was a curse when everyone else would be in danger. That was what Riddle had been trying to tell her yesterday. Face pale and blood frozen, a single word escaped her lips. "No." It was too quite to hear and she spoke louder, suddenly slamming her hands onto the table. "NO!" She shouted startling the three of them.

"No what?" Asked Neville, while everyone shot her worried looks. "No. We aren't doing this. We aren't plunging the world back into war." Ron spluttered. "WE aren't! HE is, Heather!" She shook her head, deadly serious. "No. We will find his 'lucky charms'. We will hide them someplace he can never find and we will use them for leverage." She fixed them with all with a glare. "But we won't start this war." Standing she continued. Trying to make them understand. "Look at him. He's playing normal. We already know that he's better than us, that his followers have at least ten years' time more than us to look up and become proficient in branches of magic we don't even know exist." Heather began to pace, becoming more and more agitated. "Regardless of intentions, no matter what HE has done in the past, striking first would make us the bad guys."

"No matter what is happening behind the scenes Tom Riddle has done NOTHING overt yet. Nothing to send us all back into the days when people who said his name disappeared leaving nothing but the mark above their house. There is peace right now." Hermione's hair began sparking and she shot up out of her chair. "So what!" She shouted her voice shrill. "We all pretend that nothing is going to happen? Just sit around waiting for him to do something nice like declaring war on a fancy piece of paper?" She threw the book she had been reading against the table.

"And then what?" Hermione demanded. "Then people will be dead!" Her voice dropped. "And it will be all our fault for doing nothing!" Heather ran her hands through her hair at the look of utter betray on her friends faces. "Because you didn't want to upset the status quo." Frustrated she yelled back. "That's not it Hermione!" She picked up the Daily Profit and waved it towards the other girl. "You've seen what the Ministry is saying, and how some of our classmates are acting. They say I'm lying about him being back. If we give the opening shot we will be the bad guys in the eyes of the law and this is going to be hard enough. We don't want a war on two fronts."

Neville broke in, shooting nervous looks between the two angry girls. "So what _do_ you suggest we do." Taking a deep breath to calm herself down Heather said "Exactly what we're doing." That garnered three confused looks. "We find out where the man is keeping these things. We play stupid. He knows that we know who he is... but he doesn't know how much we know _about_ him." Carefully she set the newspaper back on the table. "And he's obviously up to something here. Last time he wasted no time throwing around unforgivables. This time he's doing something different."

Ron, red in the face but making an effort to remain calm, tried to reason with her. "Which is why we should strike hard and fast. Before he gets his act together. You keep pointing out how strong he is. Well now we know one of his weaknesses." Heather cut in. "We have to be careful how we _use_ that weakness though. Remember Lockheart? We all knew he was an idiot. We didn't know that he was a memory charm expert." Tension left Hermione's body. But her mouth was now set in a grime line. "Even so, we can LEARN to be on his level magically, we can't fight him politically."

Neville looked thoughtful. "Well... Maybe we can." Everyone turned to look at him. Heather sighed. "Neville you and Ron might be one of the twenty-eight, but Hermione and I are not. Also a lot of those families _are_ on Voldemort's side." The Gryffindor nodded. "True, but look at Hermione and tell me she _won't_ be the first muggleborn minister." Heather looked at the girl in question, who for once was completely lost. "There's never been a muggleborn minister?" Asked Hermione, incredulous. Then she jumped back on topic. "What are the twenty-eight?" Ron scoffed. "It's the families with the purest lineage. The end all, be all of Voldemort's lot." He rolled his eyes. "And even if my family is on the list, it's not like we've got a lot of political clout."

Neville was starting to look pleased with himself. The last time he had that look on his face, they were transporting the devil's snare into the Chamber of Secrets. "How much of that is because your dad DOESN'T do politics. I'm betting he just lets Dumbledore handle his votes by proxy in the Wizengamot." Seeing where this was going Heather grinned. "You're a genius Neville! We cross reference the list of those families Voldemort does have ties to with the Pure-Blood Directory." He nodded. "Those on the second list, but not the first we'll need to convince to join us. We also gather those like the Zabini widow who have a lot of political clout."

Finally feeling like they were on the right track, Heather began writing all of this down. "Her son spoke to me. It might be an indication they might be willing to stop being neutral if they have someone not bloody minded to ally with." Ever the voice of reason, Hermione spoke up. "Even so... He's not going to play fair even beyond normal politics." Ron jumped up. "That's why we use his 'bits' for leverage. We get them, we hide them, and we threaten their continued existence if he doesn't keep up his innocent bystander routine." Heather nodded, the knot of dread loosening from her chest. "And if it does come to open blows we will be set. Destroying them, I bet, would stop him coming back ever again."

* * *

The tea party went better than she expected. Now that they had a plan to stop the devil on all fronts, instead of trying to pretend that a hydra only had one head, idle gossip over tea didn't seem all that hard to handle. While all of them agreed that all free time should be spent on their project, it was also important to handle the school situation before it got out of hand. Telling the tea party guests nothing was out of the question, since these people could very well be useful allies and she had to counter act her image of an 'attention seeking witch, whose fame has obviously gone to her head'.

How she acted and what she said during this one hour would cement opinions for or against her for the rest of the year no doubt, and perhaps the rest of the war. It was like second year all over again. No one knowing if the rumors were true, everyone looking to see which way to jump. Now Heather had to set the record straight. Greengrass was the first to ask something of substance. She knew of course, what Malfoy had said and the snippets of facts floating around the common room. The girl attended all the tea parties though, and always seemed to have some agenda to push. So it wasn't really a surprise that she had the opening volley.

"Potter I must say, you don't seem to be any more mad than you were before the Triwizard Tournament," Greengrass leaned forward conspiringly, despite not lowering her voice a jot. "But I must know, is what they are saying true?" Taking a sip of tea to brace herself, Heather smiled. "What? That the stress of competing in a competition meant for more experienced students caused fevered delusions?" She took another sip of tea as Greengrass fought to conceal her startlement at Heather's blunt summation. "I don't believe so, no. And after the event I had been sent to St. Mungo's to verify I was alright."

Looking across the table to include everyone in the conversation, she added "I was given a clean bill of health before being released." Cho Chang's soft voice carried the next question. "And Cedric?" Heather's face crumpled for a moment before she got it under control. "He was dead before we arrived. The Aurors said I didn't kill him." Macmillan's challenging voice called out. "So who did? You-know-who?" She responded solemnly. " _If_ the Ministry _is_ right and that _wasn't_ Voldemort, then that was still the scariest dark wizard I have ever met." Everyone paused to consider the rise of a new monster.

A girl, Lavender Brown, tittered breaking the silence. "I heard someone say you kissed him!" Raising an eyebrow with a practiced motion - because this was an answer she _had_ rehearsed "I no more kissed a dark lord than I have Professor Riddle." That made many of the girls laugh and several sigh. A boy snorted in disgust. "Why can't we get a good looking teacher that isn't a bloke?" Another said, "We've got to be running out of men even semi-proficient in defense. Surely next year we will get a witch." Ron groaned. "The position is cursed! That means we'll get a hag."


	4. Chapter 4

**So… two posts in a day? Had this lying around but didn't think I was going to use it. But it helped get a jump start on the whole 'he's in my head thing.' I was going to write up a companion fic that was just about her summers… But this actually works pretty well.**

That night she dreamed. Not the vague recollections of events she barely remembered. Not nightmares of things that had been. Not even blossoms of ideas and nonsense for the future. Instead she dreamed of summer.

* * *

The summer doesn't exist for Heather. At school, in the wizarding world, her parent's world - that is where she truly belongs. She had tried so long to exemplify a good child, to be perfect, to not dwell on the differences between how she was treated and how her cousin was. It made sense in a way. She could rationalize it all away by saying she wasn't really their child. But she was good. Things got better. They let others know she existed. They moved her into an actual room. She had deluded herself into thinking that meant something. She was out of their life for most of the year and on her best behavior when she was home. Ah. She did think of it as home. As if one day they'd accept her as part of the family. But this year the illusion died. Her magical life and home life were no longer separate.

Dumbledore had come and explained. The blood wards that were protecting them may have been compromised, they didn't really know. Him having a way around her mother's protection was bad enough, but since he actually possessed a legitimate claim to her life... It was a wonder he hadn't walked right in and slaughtered them all.

Heather hated her aunt more than her uncle, though he was the one who actually laid a hand on her. Grabbing her with just a bit more force than necessary, smacking her for the smallest irritation... Her aunt was the one who had stopped this happening before. Every time something odd happened, or she did something to show up Dudley, her aunt had been the voice of reason. Giving her more lessons and rules and making the box of lady that she lived in so much smaller. But because of that Heather had thought she had a chance. A chance to be something to them, to be better than what they wanted, to finally make them acknowledge her.

But as she nursed her newest bruise, and her aunt spewed venom and hate, Heather knew that had never been possible. Her aunt resented her. Her uncle feared her. And Dudley… Well whatever they had been teaching him at his school, he had changed. Grown up. She could see the shame when her uncle had shoved all her things in the cupboard and pushed her to get started on her chores. See the disgust in his eyes when she was told the school was making her pudgy and she was to be on a stricter diet than even Dudley had suffered. And she could see the regret the first time he'd passed her sitting in the park, carefully watching the neighborhood boys racing by on their bikes. But he never said anything, and neither did she.

In her mind she was miles away on the train back to school. She was in class, in the library, wandering the halls at night. As the summer progressed her aunt's words became less real. She hadn't kissed a monster, wasn't going to end up being a ten pound dockside attraction, and didn't get anyone killed. The pain of her uncle's hate and corrections faded with her weight because she wasn't really there. It was just stinging hexes and challenges with Malfoy. She didn't cook food and she didn't eat poorly. Instead it was potions she'd only take under the direst need.

It wasn't that bad, her clinical side told her. Light bruising and yelling was hardly even abuse. And anyways they could all be killed in their sleep any day now and hadn't been, so for killing a boy she had gotten off light. And Dudley and his friends didn't bother her anymore. Piers didn't flirt and 'Big D' didn't mock her. In fact one day he came back with ice-cream and gave her a cone. Just sat with her as they ate. It was nice. Like having one of her friends over. Or maybe a silent acknowledgement of what they could have been like as siblings. Summers didn't exist for Heather… but that moment lingered on. A token of the family she'd thought she had but didn't.

She actually saw the wards come down. Light wavering around the house before fading away. Dudley, oblivious muggle that he was, stood, gripped her shoulder bracingly and left her alone. She let the moment go with the house's protection. Less than an hour later the Order of the Phoenix was there. Mad-Eye, the real one, escorted her to Grimmauld place. Her dogfather's ancestral home. Everyone tiptoed around her as she continued to prevent the summer from existing. Until finally she was actually back on the train. Life resumed and Heather began questioning for the first time why she wasn't dead yet. Why she didn't actually want to die.

* * *

She woke, curled around her wand. It was dark. Bulstrode was snoring. Heather was in Hogwarts. Casting for the time, she found that it was a little past two in the morning. Quietly she got dressed and sneaked out of the dorms wearing her father's cloak. Wandering aimlessly, she tried to keep her mind empty and blank. It was early and she was tired, so it didn't take long for her to hide herself in an empty classroom.

Heather stared sightlessly at the wall. She refused to acknowledge this summer, or any of the others in her mind. Too tired to even try and puzzle out Voldemort, she focused on her breathing. She focused on her heart. Her mind was a void, and she felt _nothing._ For a while that was enough. Until she felt a tickling in her brain. She wasn't thinking of anything at all, but it felt like she was getting feedback. Like when Dudley's TV antenna needed to be adjusted because all that was on the screen was static. Lethargy faded and she focused her mind on the sensation.

It felt familiar. Like something she'd almost forgotten about. Like the taste of blood in her mouth. A memory flashed across her mind, cold fingers on her chin, a hand wrapped tight around her arm, a tongue in her mouth. She opened her eyes, but the angle was wrong. She was looking down at _herself_ and suddenly she was back in the classroom gasping for breath. Heather wanted to believe it was another nightmare.

But she could still taste copper, could still feel that itch in the front of her head. And she felt angry. A burning anger that ate up all the numbness inside her. Hatred filled her, madness that she was _still_ struggling to compartmentalize and deal with. They weren't her feelings. Fear washed her clean of that alien emotion. Beautiful, wonderful fear that made her heart race brought her to her feet, and sent her running through the halls. She held on to that fear and blocked out everything else, not caring that the cloak fluttered around her, not caring for the grumbling of the portraits awakened by her headlong flight. Heather kept a tight hold on her terror as she ran to Dumbledore. Praying that he would know how she had gotten into Dark Lord's mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Yay insomnia! If you recognize it, it's probably a quote from the original. It's also probably Snape, for all that I love him I fail to properly emulate his eloquent disdain. As always not mine.**

"He can read minds?!" Heather squeaked, unable to help her startled exclamation. Snape looked down his long nose, expressing his utter disdain for her sheer stupidity. After four years she was used to this response when she opened her mouth in his presence, and simply waited for the answer. "The mind is not a book Miss Potter. One does not simply look into the mind and peruse until finding the desired information." She rubbed her head, trying to ignore his tone of condescension. The potion professor's voice was harder for her to brush off than his expressions. Like with her 'family', Heather almost wanted to believe that if she was just a bit quicker on the uptake she'd gain his approval. Bloody jerk.

"Regardless," She said finally. "How do I keep him out? Or keep out of his head for that matter." While it hadn't happened again, waiting three days for a detention with no clue why she had to speak to Snape about what happened was nerve wracking. Heather figured putting up with the hateful man was a small price to pay not to fall into that mind again. Riddle was fighting off insanity with anger, of all things. "Legilimency's opposite is Occlumency. While a Legilimens is able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly…"

He trailed off and Heather stopped rubbing her forehead, trying not to wilt under his glare. "A skilled Occlumens can shield their mind from access or influence to such a degree that an invading force would be unaware they are even being blocked." Her head hurt, but she ignored it. Never had she wanted to learn something so badly. Being eaten by a dragon would be so much better than sharing this mental connection with _him_. "In these lessons I will attempt to penetrate your mind. You will attempt to resist."

Heather nodded. "How?" She asked. A vein on his head seemed to twitch and she reminded herself that no matter how much she disliked him, she needed him right now. "Sir." She tacked on quickly. His eyebrow lifted in disbelief, as it always did when she used honorifics around him. It always surprised her how much she wanted to prove herself to him, and yet how little effort she made towards that goal. It was probably pointless, just like with her 'family', but since she knew how to play the game…It wouldn't hurt anything. _It might even make these lessons go smoother._

"Clear your mind off all distracting thoughts and emotions. You will meditate before bed nightly to practice this skill." She nodded. "If there's nothing there he can't find it." Considering his instructions she hesitantly put forth a concern. "I can't go around empty headed all the time. Professor." Snape's eyebrow went up, but judging his expression Heather figured the reaction was more to express his disbelief that she didn't do just that. She refrained from rolling her eyes. "Besides, when my head is clear of other things – that's when I notice him the most."

Snape considered her words for a moment. "The evidence suggests that at times, when your mind is most relaxed and vulnerable - when you are asleep, for instance - you are sharing thoughts and emotions with the Dark Lord. What you shall be doing here is the opposite of relaxing. You will _actively_ suppress everything until you can do so at a moment's notice." Heather was starting to think she was going to be giving up more than just one night a week to get piece of mind. "It also appears that he is unaware of the connection between the two of you. Pray it remains so."

She truly was. It was bad enough without him actively trying to read her mind. "What should I do if he finds out before I'm fully trained?" Giving up even that much of her worry to someone who spent his time ridiculing her made her feel vulnerable. She began to panic less about the devil worming his way into her head, and more about the weekly mind raping session.

He sneered at her, as if her concern was petty instead of legitimate. "You'll just have to put forth greater effort than you do in your regular course work." He seemed to loom ominously, despite not having perceptively changed his baring. "In the past it was often the Dark Lord's pleasure to invade the minds of his victims, creating visions designed to torture them into madness. Only after extracting the last exquisite ounce of agony, only when he had them literally begging for death would he finally... kill them."

The silence lingered for a moment. Heather felt queasy and wondered if he was goading her on purpose. As her head of house he should know she was managing at least an acceptable in all her classes. Well except transfiguration, but that was her worst subject and she was fairly certain she could pull her grade up before the holidays. A part of her ventured forth the idea that she was focusing on her indignation to ignore the inherent threat in the rest of his statement, but she buried that thought ruthlessly. _There, see? This'll be easy._

* * *

It had not been easy. Mind rape had been a most accurate label. Snape ripped into her mind several times, barely pausing to allow her to collect herself between sessions. Heather was almost positive that he had been enjoying himself, almost to the point of smiling. Her mood however, had deteriorated as the night went on. The only thing she was certain she had learned from it was the difference between her anger and what was trickling in from 'The Dark Lord'.

Snape had taunted her the entire time, making her failure to stop him grate worse. Never mind she didn't know this sort of thing existed this morning, she should _obviously_ be able to keep him out of her head by force of will immediately. Heather had only barely been able to pretend to graciously thank him for his time at the end of it all. The look on his face when she did almost made up for her raging headache.

Wanting nothing more than to sleep, she fell face first onto her bed. A rebellious voice in her head rose up before she could stop it. _You're supposed to clear your mind before bed._ She tried arguing with it. She was tired, fed up – clearing her mind hadn't stopped Snape from snooping in her head. _Sure. Push it off until tomorrow. It'll just take that much longer to learn and you'll just be stuck with both of them until one of the three of you snaps._ Rolling over, Heather groaned. Blustrode's snores sounded extra loud, aggravating her headache.

Covering her head with her pillow, Heather tried to pretend she was lost in space. Where sound and light and evil things that went bump in the school couldn't get her. She was asleep in minutes.


	6. Chapter 6

**So again. Littered with errors, mostly brought on by lack of sleep. Fixed the waist/waste issue, mainly because when I rechecked this before trying to sleep it was bugging me to much to actually make the attempt. Finally realized that I've improved as a writer...only enough that it now bugs me that while the over all concept and layout matches my ideal, the execution is terrible. I solemnly swear to fix that should I get any better. Thank you to the thirty people who like my story, and to the sixty overall that think its worth checking on. You are all awesome for reading!**

The headaches got worse. In class, Heather put on her 'proper lady' face and tried to push through it. After dinner and during breaks she grew increasingly short tempered. Their individual research projects were slow going, and so were her weekly torture sessions with Snape. The little favor she had won with the school from the tea party didn't cheer her up. Now she had more people she had to be polite to, more people she wasn't allowed to snap at.

Shoving away from the table and the piles of useless books, Heather stomped over to the fire place and plopped down in one of the chairs. She stared broodingly at the wall, she had another meeting tonight and wasn't ready for it. When she cleared her mind she got his anger, when her mind was full she got headaches. It didn't help that Heather's dreams had gotten progressively weirder, waking her up and interrupting her sleep.

They started out being about her summers with the Dursleys, and other things she'd rather not think about. The feeling of Quirrel's skin flaking under her hands, the teenage Riddle trying to strangle her with his bare hands, the humiliating loss to Draco in front of her entire house, Cedric's eyes going empty as he fell. Heather would wake up, panting, doing everything she could to go on forgetting these things, shoving them back into the darkness.

When she began dreading sleep, that was when they changed. The second she started recognizing the scene taking shape she'd run. Run away from it into the darkness. And the darkness became a hallway. One made out of black ties. It stretched on in her mind, endless, but she had to get to the end. Heather didn't tell Snape, or go talk to the headmaster. The old man would pawn her off on the potions professor, and he would only sneer and tell her to _Control your emotions! Discipline your mind!_

Just as she was working herself into a nice pity party, someone sat carefully in the chair next to hers. It wasn't a plop, so it wasn't Ron, and they didn't flounce with a huff, so not Hermione. That left, "Neville." Her tone wasn't particularly friendly. Heather didn't much care. "Detention again tonight?" He asked. In response she slid further down in her seat. "You never did say what you had done to earn yourself weekly detentions for the rest of the year."

Her head turned and she leveled the 'don't be stupid' look she had picked up from Snape at him. Neville had his 'little lordling' face on, and didn't flinch. Instead he gave her a look of his own. "Dumbledore trusts the man, he's part of the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione says that the ingredients storeroom is still intact, Ron's reported that Malfoy isn't any more smug than usual, and you haven't pulled anything to get your detentions transferred to Filch." Heather sat up straight, and tried to blank her face. As soon as she did it, she knew it was a mistake – confirming what he had already pieced together.

Neville grinned, breaking his polite face. "So you _are_ getting special 'Girl-Who-Lived' training!" There was a strangled sound from behind them. Obviously the other two were eavesdropping. "Honestly Ron." Hermione said sighing softly. Feeling somewhat embarrassed, she just got outflanked by a _Gryffindor_ , Heather folded her hands in her lap primly. "I can't tell you anything." Ron snorted. "But it's awful, yeah?" Hermione walked around and sat next to Neville on the couch, eyes gleaming. "And we can guess!"

Running a hand though her hair Heather groaned. "Snape will literally kill me." A hand patted her on the head, smoothing down the mess she made. "Not like he hasn't been trying for years now." Swatting his hand, she glared up at the boy leaning on the back of her chair. "Every time you think that, you turn out to be wrong." Ron grinned impishly at her. "I'll get lucky one of these days."

"I'm _so_ glad the thought of my impeding death entertains you." She replied dryly. This time Neville did shiver. "You've been spending too much time with Snape. You're starting to sound like him." Hermione bounced in her seat. "Which means you spend time actually talking! So probably not dueling practice." Her face was flushed with excitement. "He offers you that and you _know_ he's trying to kill you." Ron added.

"She's always rubbing her forehead, and practically jumps all over us when we're alone." Neville said thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on the couch's armrest. "So whatever it is, its hard and not going well. Meaning it's not extra potions." Heather stifled another groan as her friends continued to try and puzzle what she was doing out. She didn't know if she hoped they did, or if she wanted them to drop it. Ron had gone back to playing with her hair. He confided in her once that it reminded him of his sister before she turned into tomboy. His older brothers would often leave him behind and he ended up stuck with a little girl who always wanted someone to play with her hair.

"Well what else is the bat of the dungeons supposed to be good at?" He said, slowly braiding a small section. Heather left him to it, glad that he still treated her like family. Last year she had discovered his crush on Hermione, and was quite happy that he didn't seem to realize she was a 'girl' too. "Isn't he supposed to be a spy for the Order?" Hermione hummed. "True, but I can't see him teaching Heather anything about Voldemort." Neville shook his head. "It's not like he's going to believe she suddenly switched sides in the war."

"Unless…" Ron's hands froze. "Guys, what if he's trying to brainwash her _for_ Voldemort!" Heather stood and faced him. "Ron, no." She put her hands up as if she could physically stop his train of thought. It was too late. "But it makes sense! Dumbledore thinks he's teaching you something useful about the enemy, and really he's slowly converting you!" Frustrated she stomped her foot. "Oh Merlin! He's on our side. I would know if he were trying to convince me Riddle is anything other than a monster!"

Ron pointed at her, completely sure of himself. Completely wrong. "But would you really? Snape's supposed to be good enough to fool one of the most powerful wizards alive." He spread his hands wide. "He could be planting ideas in your mind for Voldemort and you wouldn't notice." Grinding her teeth, she growled out, "Except that Snape's the one helping me keep Riddle _out_ of my head!" At his stunned expression, Heather realized what she had let slip. She sat back down and covered her face with her hands. Snape was _so_ going to kill her.

The all took a moment to process the new information. "Occlumency." Hermione breathed. Heather kept her face in her hands, trying to suppress what was happening from her awareness. It didn't work. "Voldemort can read minds, and so of _course_ Professor Snape would have to know how to defend against it!" Neville made a sound somewhere between a squeak and a groan. " _Snape_ can read minds?!" She gave up pretending that this wasn't happening. "Actually it's more like he can rummage around in them." Looking up she noticed that Ron seemed to be broken. His eyes were unfocused and his mouth worked, but no sound came out. "Since he knows what he's doing, he can go directly in and see the things you don't want him to see." Sighing she offered, "Its worse than mind reading, but apparently you have to be really good at it to make sense of people's minds."

Hermione bit her bottom lip as she considered everything. "Would we notice it happening?" Heather shrugged. "Maybe? But Riddle is supposed to be really good at it. He used to drive people mad for fun." Ron finally snapped out of it. "We can't go back to Defense." He blurted out. "It's only a matter of time before he finds out we know about his Horcruxes." Hermione scoffed. "Surely he doesn't waste this ability on school children." Wringing his hands, Neville hesitantly offered, "We're not just any students Hermione." He shot a nervous glance at Heather. "We know who he is, and we're friends of the only person to have ever stopped him."

"I'd offer to teach you what Snape's teaching me, but like you said earlier – it's not going so well." That and after Snape got done murdering her, he'd set her corpse on fire. 'Detention' was going to be hell. No way she'd be able to keep this from him. Ron shrugged. "That takes time to learn anyways, and we all have his class tomorrow. What we need is a distraction." Hermione stood, and begun pacing in front of the fire. "No, what we need to do is convince him we're not worth the effort." Neville's hands stilled. "What if…" He trailed off, thinking for a moment. "What if he thought he already knew what we thought about him."

Ron snorted. "It doesn't take a genius to know we hate him Neville." The Gryffindor ignored the comment. "If he found out that we knew he could read minds, he might assume any odd behavior on our part came from that. Not look any for any other explanation." Heather nodded. "And in class focus on how much you hate the mind reading git. So if he does go snooping your mind is on that, and not worrying about the things we don't want him to find out."

"You'll have to tell him." Hermione stopped pacing, and pinned Heather with an intense stare. She shifted nervously under the look. "What?" The Ravenclaw's tone turned steely. "You have to confront him about the fact he is a Legilimens." Her words brooked no argument, but she had to try. "I don't think I really should. I mean being trained in Occlumency is supposed to be a secret. You guys aren't even supposed to know; telling Riddle about it would defeat the purpose."

Ron shook his head. "No, she's right." He moved from behind her chair to stand next to Hermione. "If you're lying by telling the truth, we have a better chance of him not noticing the things we're leaving out." Neville looked convinced and joined the other two in staring at her. Waiting for her decision. _Why is it always me?_ Heather sighed and gave in.

* * *

Later, staring at Snape's door, she tried to reevaluate. It was completely irrational to fear a mere Professor more than a Dark Lord…and yet here she was. In fact, taking into account alleged past deeds for both men, Snape was more likely to kill her quick than Riddle was. Heather finally admitted to herself that she was stalling. Which was a terrible idea, because being made to wait would only make the man surlier. More so than even her lack of progress.

 _Still stalling._ Heather knocked three times on the door. It slowly creaked open like some bad horror film. "You're late." His back was to her as he emptied his mind into the pensive. "I apologize Professor." She didn't give him an excuse, he _hated_ that. Instead she kept her tone polite and her eyes down. During class she might not give him any respect but alone at night, Heather figured the man might need some buttering up to keep her alive. _Not that anything is going to save me once he finds out._

She debated telling him openly versus him simply stumbling across the information, watching the ghostly strands of memory being extracted from his head. It seemed unfair that he got to hide his memories on the off chance she back-lashed into his head, but he got free reign on all of her most embarrassing moments. Heather supposed it could be added incentive, but the truth of the matter was probably closer to the fact that Snape _wasn't_ fair to her. Ever.

He turned to face her, stepping forward and glowering. "Have you been practicing?" She nodded. "Every night, Sir." Her tone was respectful, even as she mentally rolled her eyes. _Not that it seems to be helping any._ He still twitched his eyebrows when she said something even remotely respectful. It would be funny if she didn't think he had decided she was secretly mocking him. Snape produced his wand. "We shall see."

Before they could begin, the door flew open. "Professor, I…" Draco paused, his expression a reflection of her own confusion. "What are _you_ doing here?" He asked. Heather back at him, but Snape cut off her retort. "Miss Potter is here to discuss her summer living arrangements, seeing as her relatives no long feel capable of dealing with her." Betrayal flashed through her, as strong as it was surprising. She hadn't realized she trusted the man not to talk about personal things until he had.

Heather didn't really register the rest of the conversation – something about the missing Chaser having been found – or the following dismissal. Instead she was dealing with the shock of emotional pain, the feeling building on the still fresh wound that was this past summer. All of those things she had been suppressing, ignoring, simply not dealing with flooded her mind and she turned the hurt into anger and directed it towards the man who had brought it back to her attention. Heather found herself staring down into the silvery swirl of memories.

"Get away from that Potter." Snape had returned and his voice was pure venom. Heather didn't move, but met him glare for glare. "Why should I? Why should you have anything private when I don't?" Her voice had started out low, but got louder with each word. "Not my life! Not my mind! Not even my memories!" She was shouting now but he had moved closer, just as enraged as she.

Snape grabbed her arm tightly and loomed over her, sneering right into her face. "Such a child! Like your godfather, forever whining about how bitterly unfair your lives have been." He began dragging her by the arm across the room. "Well, it may have escaped your notice, but life _isn't_ fair!" She stumbled as he shoved her out the door. "Your lessons are at an end." Heather turned to argue with him, but despite the control he had gained over himself; his voice was still filled with hate. "Go!" The door slammed and she left.


	7. Chapter 7

**References to sleep has nothing to do with my poor habits I swear. It's all plot. Oh and am I the only one excited Riddle made it into this chapter? Might be hard to have a ship sail without him…but obviously this story isn't of the sudden love potion variety. Sorry folks. Thank you awesome people for reading. As always not mine.**

Heather slept terribly again. It might have been a normal nightmare, running from Snape down the black tiled hallway. The door at the end opening wide to reveal her and a monster kissing in a room that was on fire. It _might_ have been a normal nightmare, but she woke up furious.

It seemed even if she _wasn't_ channeling his actual anger, it was feeding her own. Blowing everything she was feeling out of proportion. And Heather hadn't noticed it because even with the headaches… It felt good to be angry. Nothing hurt when she was mad, and when she was beyond angry answers seemed crystal clear. She needed to distract Riddle? Fine. She could do that. It was much better than focusing on what happened last night. And it would feel soo good to shove his emotions back down his throat. Let the devil read her mind right now. She'd burn him with his own fire.

The intensity didn't fade away as the day went on. Heather let it simmer inside her, not acknowledging anyone around her. Her friends cast her worried looks, but respected her silence. Malfoy said something to her, but she didn't hear it over the fury in her head. She just smiled at him, the sweetest smile she knew how to give. He left her alone after that. She didn't care why. Draco wasn't her problem today.

Finally came Defense. Heather sat primly in her chair, waiting for her chance. When Riddle asked if anyone knew how to perform the blasting curse, Heather stood without being called on and pointed towards his desk. " _Confingo."_ It exploded, leaving only charred pieces of wood and scorch marks behind. The professor hadn't been sitting at it at the time, sadly, but it had been satisfying all the same. "Miss Potter…" Drawled the Devil, voice tinged with annoyance. "You have a free period today?" She smiled ever so pleasantly at him. "Why yes Professor, after Herbology."

His face said she was a school girl throwing a tantrum. Heather was planning on showing him that a girl in a mood was no trivial matter. "You'll be spending it here. Scrubbing the floor. Now sit." She sat, and he resumed the lesson as if nothing had happened. No doubt this would be all over the school by dinner. Probably something along the lines of her having a crush on the DADA teacher. She'd show them all that crushing was exactly what she had in mind for Riddle.

* * *

Time passed quickly. Neville trailed after her on her way back to the classroom. He sat across the hall and pulled out the book he was currently reading. She left him to it. It wasn't that she agreed with his concern about being left alone with the monster. She just couldn't be bothered caring about anything other than her desire to destroy her enemy. She had tapped into that link in her mind, willingly opening it wide. All of his anger was in her now. She didn't even have to suppress anything. Her mind was completely flooded with emotion. There wasn't room for anything else.

Riddle was waiting for her, bored professor face still on. He conjured a bucket and brush for her. "Well get to work. If you had wanted to talk, Miss Potter, you should have utilized my office hours." Heather laughed and drew her wand. "I'll get right on that, _professor_." She kept walking towards him and he watched her impassively. "But first. Stay. Out. Of My HEAD!"

She cast _Legilimens_. It worked, surprising him. She felt that shock go through him even as Heather shoved all of the anger she had been siphoning and building back into him. It was agony. Distantly she felt her knees hit the floor and heard the door slam behind her. It didn't matter though – nothing did over her mind being ripped in half. She was herself, but she was him, and she wanted to stop being both. Finally there was blissful nothingness.

...

...

...

"Potter?"

...

It took a bit for the word to be more than meaningless noise. It took even longer for it to register as a name, and that it was hers. There was a wooden floor under her face. She pushed away from it. Sat up and rubbed a hand across her face. It came back wet. A pockerchief intruded on her field of vision, and she followed the offending hand back up its attached arm until she saw a face. _Oh. Right. Riddle._ She followed the arm back to the white cloth square and took it. Patting at her face until she located the source of the blood, then pressed it against her scar to stanch the flow. "Thank you." She said quietly. Heather meant for the blessed emptiness in her head as much for the polite token, but she didn't really feel like clarifying.

Riddle was squatting down next to her; his eyes were dark and intense. And blue. She hadn't known his eyes were blue. He lifted a single finger, and slowly moved it. First left to right, and then right to left. She tracked it, but couldn't process its significance. Her mind felt sluggish.

"You appear to be in shock, but I don't believe you have a concussion." His voice was calm. Not bored. "You can complete the rest of your detention." Not even angry, or mocking. "I hate you." She said. She didn't think it first; the words had formed in her mind and mouth at the same time. A smirk flickered across his lips before vanishing back into his careful consideration. "So I gathered." She pulled the cloth away from her head setting her hand down on her lap. He took it away from her, flipped it over and began patting the wound for her. He was surprisingly gentle.

"You hate everything." Riddle ignored her, wiping her forehead clean. Heather felt some irritation at that, since the world seemed to be coming back into focus. Other than her scar, her head didn't seem to hurt. "You know… Professor Snape is scarier than you." She said experimentally. His expression didn't change. "He doesn't need me alive, he just currently prefers me that way." It was a conclusion Heather hadn't realized she'd had until she said it. "You've always wanted me dead, so I don't lose much of anything by antagonizing you."

Riddle pulled his hand away, and met her eyes. She didn't know if he had decided she was more than punch drunk, or if he had just given up. "You risk dying slowly after much suffering." She laughed at his bland tone and attempted to stand. It was more complicated than usual, as the floor swayed, her head spun, and suddenly she didn't know what to do with her skirt. He held out a hand and she took it, clinging to his arms as the room seemed to move around her. "If I wanted a quick death I should have accepted it the first three times you offered." Regaining her equilibrium she stepped away from him and gave a bitter grin.

"Or you know, end it all myself. That would solve both of my problems." Riddle's face twisted, revealing all of that anger she could no longer feel. But the door burst open before he could say anything. In walked the headmaster, Neville trailing along behind him. For once Dumbledore seemed dangerous. Maybe it was the head injury, but he seemed to crackle with unspent power. "Is there a problem here, Professor Riddle?" Heather stepped forward. "It was my fault, Sir." She gestured to the remains of the desk. "I asked for another chance at the blasting curse." She gestured to her head. "I overpowered it again, and got hit in the head by flying debris." Behind the headmaster, Neville's face had gone into 'little lordling 'mode. Obviously she'd have to do a bit better with the lying.

Taking Ron's advice from last night, she gave into the feeling of dizziness and swayed. She wasn't at all surprised when Riddle caught her. "Professor Riddle was checking to see if my stupidity had earned me a concussion." Heather let her eyes meet Dumbledore's, letting her archenemies support her. She brought the memory of anger, the desk's explosion, and tracking a moving finger rise to mind. There was nothing else in it other than the dizziness. Her head felt emptier than it had for months now. She could even feel a brief tickle across those thoughts before she closed her eyes.

"I was just about to take her to Madam Pomfrey." She heard a familiar bored voice say. There was a murmur of other familiar voices, but she didn't catch what they were saying. The only truth she cared to express right at that moment was how tired she was. A sharp stinging hex caused her eyes to fly back open. Heather's position had changed. She was being carried down the hall. "Do try to stay awake, Miss Potter. It'd be a shame if your stubborn refusal to die lost to a bit of wood."

 _Wood? Oh right, we were being Slytherin together._ House unity and all that. The face above hers belonged to the heir of Slytherin after all. Riddle glanced down at her. "And don't think I've forgotten about the floor. You'll be back to scrub it the night you get the all clear from the Matron." Heather blinked at him. "But we're Slytherin!" She wasn't quite sure why that was a defense, but it felt important to her at the moment. A smirk appeared on his face, and this time stayed there. "Which is why you don't have two."

Heather was pretty sure she had lost the argument and turned her attention to watching the portraits pass.


	8. Chapter 8

**I write on my phone's Notepad… Two days ago I had typed up a chapter where Tom and Snape had a nice little discussion about the mind. There were threats involved and it merged into a plot hook. Then I accidentally discarded the thing. Trying to re-write it led to an odd conversation that really didn't need to happen. So now you get this instead.**

She was still mad. Mad about everything. It just didn't consume her anymore. Heather was so tired of being angry and upset and confused. She had ruined things with Snape. Never mind that he was always awful – she should have held her tongue and took it. She needed those lessons. Now more than ever because she had went and told Riddle, and while he must be protecting his mind now it was only a matter of time before he did all the things Snape had and worse.

She needed a break.

Her magical exhaustion and detention was taken care of, she got caught up on sleep, and even held another tea party where the guests happily chatted about the upcoming trip to Hogsmeade. For a little while she allowed herself to pretend she was normal. Clung to the everyday stress of homework and studying, and ignored politics and the mess that was her life. There was no dark lord in her mind, Snape and Riddle treated her no differently in class than they ever had. She knew it would end eventually, but she was enjoying it while it lasted.

The day before their trip to Hogsmeade, the Colorful Quartet were gathered in the library. Finishing homework assignments, working on their genealogy project, and just chatting. Despite not having made much head way, they were all enjoying the respite from serious danger lurking over their shoulder... Other than Heather's confrontation with riddle, they hadn't been in any serious danger and while they did have a mystery on their hands, it was one that even Hermione admitted might take years to bare fruit.

As Hermione put the final touches on her tenth defense easy for the week, Ron leaned over the table and pulled it out of her reach. "You must have a double O in that class already 'monie." Ignoring her glare he waved the parchment at her. "So why do you write all these essays?" Neville looked up from the potions text he had been pursuing with dogged determination. The boy was a disaster in both the kitchen and the lab,but Heather was dutifully helping him slog through it. If nothing else they both were getting good figuring out what combinations would explode.

"You can't say you haven't already mastered the material." He added curiously. Carefully rolling the rest of her essays together - as extra work she was allowed to owl it to the professor - Hermione shrugged. "Well, even though Heather is right and we can't openly do anything against him... This is something I can do. I have all of my notes from the previous years, so I started from the first year material compared what Professor riddle is teaching to what we actually learned and or studied and write an essay on every topic we missed. There were a lot of discrepancies, and I cram in every detail I can remember. Plus anything obscure related to it and then add at least a foot about how well I feel the concept builds on the previous topic."

Ron let out a low whistle, garnering glares from a nearby study group. Heather shared his sentiment. "You've been writing that much for ten essays a week since classes began? When do you sleep?" Seeing their admiration, Hermione blushed. "It's not as bad as it sounds. Like I said, I have all of the notes and research done so I just have to compile that into a standard format." She began to pack up the rest of her things. "I just had to do something. Even if it's just filling up his time marking extra work, it'll help a little." Neville grinned at Heather. "That is the most passive aggressive thing I have ever heard. I think your house is going to want to add her to their roster as an honorary Slytherin."

Dramatically, Heather put the back of her hand against her brow. "Shown up first by a Gryffindor and now by a Ravenclaw. At this rate I'll be cast out all together." She lifted her other hand out to Ron beseechingly. "Ron, my last hope! Remain stalwart against temptation! Refrain from preforming great acts of cleverness and ambition!" The Hufflepuff rolled his eyes. "You're safe. The school couldn't survive a Malfoy and a Weasely in the same house. Don't know how it survived this long with the two of you together." Glancing around to ensure no green-trimmed individuals lingered in the area; she dropped her arms and leaned closer.

"Slytherin house almost didn't last year. House unity is our only true rule and while we've always pushed the boundaries of that – last year all bets were off. We dueled weekly for dominance." Hermione looked aghast at the thought. "Dominance? Like wolves?" Shrugging Heather continued. "Well it factors on a lot of things. Malfoy is a safe leader slash representative both for politics and...Well…" Double checking the area she lowered her voice. "The other politics."

"But he's such a wanker!" Ron protested. Neville diplomatically intervened. "His family is old, rich, and powerful. He can afford to be …difficult because he will never have to pander to anything but his own whims. Oh! And um family loyalty of course." Heather nodded in agreement. "Right. I've always been on the outs with him and so had no standing to speak of unless something drastic was going on. Last year as the Slytherin champion, I couldn't put up with him and not lose face and his ego couldn't live without attention. "

Frowning Hermione asked, "How did you get away with dueling? I thought there were wards to alert the professors of that sort of thing." She shrugged. "Since Slytherin is supposed to be one big happy family in public, we settle all disputes in the dungeons. That includes a dueling chamber. There are wards to monitor life signs and of course watch for overly strong dark magic, but that's it."

Ron, having gone back to reading the essay he'd stolen, sat up suddenly in his chair. "Hey, I can understand this!" He sounded surprised. Hermione gave him and exasperated look. "I would hope so Ron, I'm still on second year." Ron shook his head adamantly. "No I mean you didn't use a bunch of big words where two smaller ones would do." Skimming the paper he continued, "And you stayed on topic instead of going off on a tangent about the spell's color or something like that."

Hermione huffed at him and took the parchment away from him. "Professor Riddle said that spell light refraction was a topic better suited to magical theory. He also said that my essays had to pick a single idea for contemplation, be written for the average minded student at the material level, and that I may write no more than three essays on a similar topic." Neville looked at her appraisingly. "Is that why your work in potions is coming back with less red on it?" Blushing she responded. "Well, I figured it must be a Slytherin thing. It also leaves me more time to write more essays. It's not much, but at least I'm doing something. Keeping him busy."

Neville contemplated this for a moment. "So now you've gotten into the habit of writing for the average wizard. You'll be minister in no time. We just have ever to work on your image. Make you popular." Shuddering at his teasing, Hermione replied. "Well then, I guess I'm safe from that fearsome responsibility yet." Amused Heather questioned her word choice. "Fearsome?"

"I wouldn't even know where to begin addressing the problems I see in wizarding society. Of course you must also take into account that some things, like house elves, have legitimate reasons for being the way they are however barbaric the practices. I have just as much idea on where to begin that as gaining popularity." Obviously she had been thinking about this. Ron spoke up. "Actually I have an idea about that."

Three faces turned to him in shock. "What?" One questioned for all of them. The Hufflepuff was much better at starting fights than making friends. "Well we've got four years of students who missed out on a lot, seeing as they didn't have access to your study habits. In our year it's really apparent because of the mock duels. I mean, I won my last fight using a cleaning charm!"

"What does this have to do with –" Neville started, but was cut off as Ron warmed up to his idea. "Start a study group... or a club! Invite everyone who usually shows up to the tea parties and it'll spread through word of mouth." Hermione bit her lip nervously. "Why not have Heather do it? She's brilliant at Defense. She can even perform a fully corporeal patronus." Heather held up her hands. "No way. You've taught me what I needed to know and more importantly how to use it. In a fair fight you'd outwit me easily. I've just had more practical – and frequent – application for our lessons. I can't teach people how not to die without pretending to be Voldemort."

Hermione considered the idea. "Do you suppose people would come? Riddle is a very good professor. If he was another Lockhart I could see people joining up... But…" Neville shrugged easily. "He can't make up for four years of neglect. Even said so. And while no one is openly talking about it, many people know there's a chance of another war." Neville said reasonably.

"I suppose it would be more productive than writing essays on things I already know." The Ravenclaw admitted , warming up to the idea. "I could have lesson plans ready, maybe designed as games with prizes, by the next tea party." Ron grinned. "I'll help you decide on the prizes. Books about Defense may be exiting to you, but no one will come back if you don't offer something fun. We could pick things out at Hogsmeade tomorrow." Noticing the light blush that stained his cheeks, both Neville and Heather claimed prior engagements for the day.

* * *

She ran down the earthen tunnel, glad to know a back route to Hogsmeade. She had overheard Malfoy telling his goons that he wanted to make a deal about keeping quiet about her family, and planned to escort her (read ambush) from the main gates to the three broomsticks.

While she knew she'd have to confront that – and all her problems – soon, Heather wanted this to be her last hurrah before dealing with everything. Riddle and Snape had managed to leave her alone this long, so Malfoy could get in line. She began to climb the ladder at the end of the tunnel, trying to decide where to go first since she was on her own. As she reached for the last rung, a hand shot out of the darkness above her pulling her up by the arm.

Screaming, Heather kicked out at the dark shape and was rewarded with a pained grunt. She was dropped on the dusty floor, and she quickly rolled to the side. But instead of pressing the attack, a gruff male voice intoned " _Clodo._ " The trap door and all of the other doors in the shrieking shack slammed closed, trapping her in the small living room. Pushing herself to her feet and drawing her wand she faced the man warily. Her eyes hadn't adjusted to the dimly lit room, but she threw a cutting curse at him anyways.

He dodged easily and sent back a purple streak. She cast the counter quickly, recognizing the dark hex. She sent a few more spells his way, and then dived behind the couch as he threw back even more back at her. After that first spell he had begun casting silently. Heather only had practice doing a few spells that way, and she'd rather save those for when she was sure of the hit. You couldn't gain back the element of surprise.

The couch exploded a rain of dust and old stuffing and she quickly cast _flipendo_ , pushing the debris at him. He managed to put up a weak shield, but her first curse broke it and her second would have hit him had he not flung himself on the floor. His returning spell hit her squarely, and she found herself bound in ropes. Laying on the floor Heather struggled to move her wand but it was no use. Her attacker loomed over her and pointed his wand. "You're dead." He said. Then ropes loosened and vanished. Helping her to her feet, Sirius grinned at her. "Getting sloppy there Snakelet."


	9. Chapter 9

**I Uh, just wanted to say that while I appreciate Emily's review, I can't really take credit for the argument. Almost everything Snape has said thus far is stolen from the books. And Harry was a drama filled brat in some ways during this year and the next. Would have PM'd you but you didn't sign in I guess. Apparently you're all happy Sirius is here? I am too but that wasn't planned. Really all I wanted was a mess of interactions between the ship, mostly ignoring the rest of the cast to get this idea out of my head... Even though I kinda hate those fics personally. That's probably why it's turning into this really long thing and why even though they're there they feel like part of a separate story. Because plans and writing have nothing to do with each other. Thanks for reading!**

She allowed her Dogfather to pull her into a tight hug. She knew no matter what, _he_ would always be on her side. "Thought you weren't supposed to leave the house?" He rolled his eyes. "I heard you're learning occlumency. Wanted man or not, I came down here to remind Snivellus that if he hurts you he'll have it out with me." She didn't correct his tense. No reason to be the one to set off the fight that had been brewing since before her birth. But she did allow herself the opportunity to unload on a sympathetic ear.

"Either he's a terrible teacher or I'm _doomed_. It doesn't matter what I do, I can't keep anyone out of my head. Can't you teach me instead?" Despite looking sympathetic, Sirius shook his head. "I'm more than a bit rusty. My parents insisted I learned so I never really got past the basics." He fixed her with a rare serious stare. "You on the other hand, need to know this." She knew that. And now she felt guilty. She didn't want to let the one person who believed in her down. "I know. I just..." She let out an exasperated huff. "It seems to be impossible to clear or suppress or ignore my mind. It's never completely empty no matter how much I try and pretend otherwise."

"whoa whoa. I know exactly what you mean. And _that_ I can help you with." His eyes unfocused as he began to explain. "The emptiness you need to start with isn't about shoving everything away. It's about bringing everything close. Peace of mind. You've got to accept everything about yourself so you're not sweeping everything under a carpet leaving an obvious hiding place for people to dig into. Once you can admit the good the bad and the ugly about yourself, you can keep it so close, so still they can't find it." He grinned, eyes back in focus. "Of course that's just the first step. A real occlumens can lie with their minds like others do with words. Show you part of the truth so you'll assume what they want you to assume. Of course the better a legilimens gets to know you the harder it is to hold things back. The best can fabricate things completely by completely understanding who that person is."

His face got that look of irritation that she had learned to associate with Snape. "There _is_ a fine line between pretend and become. That's why I want you to stay on your guard around the greasy bat. Whatever he claims to be now, he once did follow Voldemort. And he's a good enough to fool one of the most powerful wizards in this century. I'm just hoping it's the right one."

His warning echoed Ron's, and for a moment she settled into doubt. But Heather was looking at actions and while Snape might hate her, the man had always stood between her and death. Pain, suffering - emotional and physical - he not only did not care about but actively seemed to encourage. When it counted though, he had been all that stood between her and danger. She had to believe that he didn't want her dead because if he had she would be. At least twice.

They spent the day in muggle London. With his hair properly washed and tied back, a muggle suit, and a shave he looked very little like the escaped criminal. Sirius seemed healthier too for the trip out. Telling stories, flirting shamelessly with sales ladies. He played the part of a father doting on his daughter for the day and she let him. Feeling his unconditional acceptance helped soothed the wounded part of her. The still hurting part that believed and whispered her relative's poisonous words. When it was time for her to go back she hesitated. "I want to stay with you this summer." The easy smile he had worn all day faded. "We will see what Dumbledore has to say."

She couldn't stand that trapped look on his face. "Why do you have to ask him? Wanted man or not, you're my legal guardian and live in an unfindable house." Sirius's voice turned stern. "Because he's the only one who can protect you from Voldemort." Aggravated resentment rose up inside her. "He didn't protect Lilly and James." A look of hurt flashed across his face. "That's not fair." Heather looked away. "I know. But I still feel that way." Softly she added her worst fear. "People are going to die because of me."

Sirius pulled her close. "No Snakelete. He may kill people and that's on him not you." He grabbed her chin, and lifted her face. "And we may die for you, but that's our choice, because we love you and would do anything for you." Heather's eyes began to water, blurring the care that radiated from her dogfather. "I don't want lose you. Any of you." He hugged her. "Then you won't. We will still be with you always even if you can't see us. You think your parents aren't watching you grow up? You think that Hufflepuff seeker is missing a single game?" The damn broke and she sobbed into his chest. "It's not the same!" His hand patted her hair. "I know it's not. But you will always have us and there is nothing Voldemort or anyone else can do to keep us away."

* * *

That night she tried to sort through her emotions and memories. Instead of shying away from the negative ones she looked at them. They pained ugly pictures, embarrassing ones, and ones full of pain. But she tried to say to herself that all that came before was a part of her. She didn't have to like it. But it was there. And while she cried a lot and was angry too... She felt better before she fell asleep. She did that every night until the pain wasn't so sharp. Until she could say that while she still didn't like the idea of people knowing, of people seeing the things in her head... It was her. And while they could try to use it against her, in the end she was her and they were them. They _weren't_ her so how could they possible judge her? It was actually very calming. And while it didn't solve anything she felt lighter. Like emotional the baggage had gotten lighter.

When Malfoy caught up to her and taunted her on the fact her family couldn't stand her because she 'kissed the man who had killed her parents' she wasn't crushed by the truth or blinded by rage. Instead she actively swore not to challenge him for leadership. She'd even support him. He was suspicious but couldn't see the loophole and made the deal to leave her alone. Honestly she was glad to put aside their silly rivalry. He wasn't really a threat to her, and the Slytherins only ever followed who they chose. Sure you could try to win them over, and having them all against you sucked, but if you were good enough they'd court you not the other way around.

Feeling like she wouldn't completely fly off the handle when Snape was his usual charming self, she finally made her way back to his office. His was predictably less than ecstatic to see her.

"What precisely do you think you are doing here?" Heather clasped her hands in front of her, kept her chin up, and her tone respectful. This was important. "I've come to formally request you reinstate my lessons, Sir." She didn't hesitate before saying 'sir', but he still seemed to think she was up to something. "So you can finish what you started no doubt." Not at all referring to the subject matter.

She ignored his pity comment and continued her rehearsed speech. "I also formally apologize on behalf of myself and my deceased family for the many wrongs that have been committed against you, and wish to offer recompense. One boon big or small without limits. To be called at the time and place of your choosing. If it is within my power to grant it, I shall do so."

Heather held out the token, a magically binding physical representation of the sincerity of her offer. She had originally pulled it out to give to the Diggorys, but Amos had thrown it back at her thinking she meant to cheapen his son's death. Another reason to wish her family was alive, to have raised her to know what to do in all of these touchy situations she kept finding herself in.

"You wish to bribe your way back into lessons?" Both of his eyebrows were raised at the audacity. Quickly she tried to cut off that line of thought. "No sir. This is a separate issue. It's obviously your choice to train me or not, but you are owed a debt and I won't leave until you accept that one day you'll allow me to repay it." There. Everything was out. Hopefully he at least would take the token. She resolved to slip it under his office door if he tossed her out.

"You are a child and nothing you can give me will account for the tally set against you." The potion's professor sounded dismissive, but didn't actually end the conversation. Accepting the challenge she felt her shoulders try to straighten even more than her already exaggeratedly perfect posture. "I am the heir to the Potter family and there is _much_ I will be capable of when I reach my majority." Letting go of her defiant tone, she lowered her voice. "However, if you prefer… I could destroy the family name and end the line."

The offer was not only sincere; it was considered the ultimate payment for transgressions amongst purebloods. Perhaps Snape wasn't a pureblood, because he simply sneered at her. "So the noble Girl-Who- Lives wants to be a self-sacrificing martyr?" It was hard not to rise to the bait, but she managed a shrug. "The titles don't mean anything to me. I thought destroying them might mean something to you. But it's your debt to ask for what you wish."

This amused him for some reason, and his next question sounded almost factious. "And if I want your first born child?" Heather considered the man carefully before replying. "If I should live so long and fruitful a life, then yes. Provided it is well cared for."

"Ah, adding stipulations?" He sounded superior, as if he had trapped her into admitting that her word meant nothing to her. She knew better than that. "I said if it is in my power. I don't have it in me to give anyone up to a monster. Especially not my own child. How could I after what was done for me?" Heather wasn't sure if she meant her parents dying to protect her, or if she meant the abuse. She supposed both.

Her head tickled briefly. It was something not _close_ to her for just a moment but then it was gone. Not, she realized, out of her head but somehow becoming _her_. In her mind, pretending to be a part of it as he searched. She had the sudden epiphany that he had been training her after all, not just torture. To get her mind to recognize invaders by making it overly sensitive to the sensation. And she knew without a doubt he could have slipped in without her noticing a thing. While he might have skipped out already, this was a test. One more than just about figuring out her motives.

Carefully she took a deep breath and focused on the hug she had shared with Sirius. How safe and loved it made her feel and how foreign that felt. That was all. She kept everything else closer to her then that hug. Snape had already seen everything anyways, so if he happened to find the rest of her… all well.

Sneering Snape bit out a question, presumably having left her. "Feeling sentimental?" She felt as high as the moon. "Not particularly." Her grin was way too wide and she knew it, but it had worked. She had known Sirus and Snape hated each other. She had hoped that the memory would irritate him enough to make him leave. _It had worked!_ Trying to tone down her glee she tacked on a 'Sir' to her sentence. His eyebrow twitch in disbelief.

Then he was back in her mind with a vengeance which was awful because her mind had been so much better since the encounter with Riddle and now it was hurting again. Instinctively she tried to pull everything close again, but it was hard with fear and doubt and anger lashing into her. She couldn't even tell her from him anymore. Before she could force herself to calm down and make it obvious by contrast he was out again.

By the look on his face that hadn't been a test, it had been a search for answers. And he was NOT pleased with what he had found.


	10. Chapter 10

**Wee! This was supposed to happen two chapters ago. So glad to be back to where I thought I was going. Thank you to all you lofely people who are reading this!**

Snape stared at her for a moment, expression beyond just rage, before taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose. "You exposed a weakness to _him_ , knowing full well the terrible use he could put it to?" His voice was tight, and she felt the blood drain from her face. In all of the preparation for coming to talk to the professor, Heather had forgotten the multitude of sins she had yet to confess.

"I- I was mad. I was mad at you and him, and I've been having these awful nightmares instead of sleeping…" Heather was making excuses and knew it, but her mouth kept running. "And he's mad all of the time, at everything! Nothing I did stopped it, and it was either throw that anger at him or try and blow up the castle." His expression softened marginally. Death might come quickly now. "Afterwards you felt the need to tell the Dark Lord your school teacher was more frightening than he was?" He sounded like he was dreading the answer.

Helplessly, she shrugged. "He's a school teacher now too. You've just been terrorizing me longer. " Heather couldn't help but point out. "Also you can't really hold that opinion against me. Ron thinks you've been trying to kill me for ages, Hermione has pointed out you enjoy watching me suffer too much to want me dead," His face was growing more and more disbelieving as she rambled. "and you've conditioned Neville to fear you like the wrath of God."

The potion's professor glared at her as if she were proposing throwing all of the ingredients in the pot to 'see what happened'. He might have even stopped breathing for a moment at the sheer stupidity coming out of her mouth. It didn't matter if it made sense. That was how she felt about the whole thing. Voice very, very controlled, he finally spoke. "You told your little friends about our lessons after I specifically forbade it?" Heather shrank away from him. "They, uh, they kind of just figured it out…"

Anger drained out of him. "Miss Potter, y _ou_ at least know I am actively trying to keep you alive." His voice contained the exhausted tones of the long suffering. "So why are you actively hindering me?" Before Heather could dig herself in deeper, Riddle stepped around her through the office door. The door that neither of them had thought to close behind her. "Perhaps because she has already resolved to die." Snape didn't react to his sudden appearance, but her heart began to race. _How long had he been there?_

The door softly closed with a sinister snick. The Dark Lord's presence seemed to suck the air out of the room. Or maybe that was because she was holding her breath. Heather still had no idea what to do about her own personal demon, and here he was making himself comfortable behind her most hated professor's desk. Gathering herself, she managed to choke out "Excuse me?"

That smirk made another brief appearance on his face. "How did you put it? You could 'end it all and solve both your problems'?" He leaned forward. "Not that it would work. You'd be _taking_ your life which would most likely render our agreement null and void." Blood frozen, she blinked at him. "So now what? You drive me insane until I give into my secret urge to take my own life?" Riddle exchanged an unreadable look with Snape. Heather realized they may have taken her words as admittance of suicidal tendencies. Feeling silly clarifying herself to two people who hated her, she glared at them. "An urge I _don't_ possess." Her denial echoed hollowly in the potions master's office. Instead of answering her question, Riddle leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "There is a secret department inside the Ministry, called the department of Mysteries." Heather couldn't help but interrupt. "Is it at the end of a black tiled hall?" He raised an eyebrow at her, and she suddenly felt stupid for no discernible reason. _It was a legitimate question._ "Inside that room is a prophecy that only you and I can collect. I want you to fetch it for me."

This time when he invaded her mind, it was not as a slow trickle but as a train wreck. Unlike Snape he wasn't looking, he was showing. Her professor withering under the cruciatus curse, her mother begging for her little girl's life, the agony of her soul being shredded. The connection cut off again. Panting, she tried to process the new information. "I believe you wanted me to stay out of your head?" Which hurt again, and that was just a taste of what he could do with her mind. Still, Heather pulled her aching mind close. Might not do much, but she _hated_ being bullied. Defiantly as she could manage rubbing her head, she muttered plenty loud enough for them to hear. "Snape is still scarier." She could practically _hear_ his teeth ground and she hastily corrected herself. "Professor Snape. I mean."

"I must confess myself also curious. Why _do_ you respect me more than Severus?" Heather glanced at the man in question. His face was empty as he watched their conversation. "I don't, weren't you here for that? He's a hell of a lot scarier than you are." Sighing, Riddle clarified. "Not _fear_ girl. Respect. As you pointed out I want you dead and he doesn't… at the moment. And yet you do not even attempt to antagonize me the way you do him?" Heather, head aching and already sick of the conversation, decided maturity was overrated. She stuck out her tongue, and followed that up by exaggeratedly rolling her eyes like Ron did. "Can we add a stipulation to the deal that you also don't try to psychoanalyze your way into my head?" Snape finally broke his self-imposed vow of silence.

"Miss Potter, if you could refrain from antagonizing the Dark Lord?" He sounded less angry and more resigned. Riddle dropped the subject thankfully and stood. "We will make an unbreakable vow, with Severus as our binder." He stood and fixed her with a look. "You will not speak a word of this to Dumbledore." Realizing that they were setting terms, Heather's mind raced. "I get to hear the prophecy too." She blurted. If only they could get it, then it must concern both of them. "Naturally." He replied easily, as if he wouldn't have withheld that information had she not brought it up. "Remember miss Potter, that violating the terms of the agreement will lead to your death." He cautioned. "A voluntary one that will more than likely leave me unharmed." This time she caught the qualifiers. "I suppose neither of us wants to risk finding out the hard way that we were wrong."

Riddle offered her his arm, and Heather resignedly lifted her right arm in return. He gripped her hand, but turned her arm over to get a better look at the fading green mark on it. "What's this?" He sounded angry, and she tried to jerk her hand back. Last week's tiff, burned bright in her mind. "Just a memento from yet another time my inherent stupidity got the best of me." She jerked her arm again, but he held tight. "So you make a habit of protecting those who cause you harm?" Heather was not enjoying being this close to him, when his voice sounded that mad. "No! I just make a habit of dealing with my problems in my own." She tugged again. "Let _go_."

He sighed, but ignored her. "Severus." Riddle said, and for a moment she froze thinking he had figured it out. The image of her Professor withering in pain flashed through her mind again. The man moved closer to them, raising his wand over their still joined hands and she marginally relaxed. They were just starting the ritual of the vow.

As they both stated their terms, a new thin golden wire would wrap around their joined hands. While it looked like it should burn as tightly as it cut into them, she felt nothing but the tightening of their magic. When they were through, they were both left with marks from the patterns of the light on their hands and arms. With a wave of his hand, Riddle banished or concealed them.

 _Great. He also can do magic wandlessly._ As if Voldemort didn't already have enough of an advantage. "You have until the new year, Miss Potter." Heather decided not to point out that they hadn't stipulated that, so it wouldn't be a deal breaker. He nodded at her potions professor who nodded back. "Severus." Riddle then left, door swinging opening before him and closing behind him without any visible coercion.

Heather stared at the door for a moment, before turning her attention to Snape. The man suddenly looked _tired._ "Get out." He stated, moving to sit behind his desk. It seemed like a bad idea to press him, so she slipped the token she had brought onto the desk, and then made her escape.


	11. Chapter 11

**Several questions were asked and I know I didn't write clear enough to show it properly... So:**

 **The green mark is a fading bruise on her arm from when Snape tossed her out of their lessons.**

 **Heather hasn't gone into Snape's memories but is fully aware of the things her Dad pulled thanks to comments that Sirius makes ~ combined with the knowledge Snape hates her dad and nothing Heather does raises her in his esteem...well she knows enough to know what she needs to be apologizing for in a general sense.**

 **The terms of the deal with Riddle are essentially Heather goes and gets the prophecy and Voldemort doesn't use the connection to drive her insane / invade her mind anymore. Both will get to listen to the prophecy after its retrieval.**

 **Snape, Dumbledore, Heather and the people she picked out in the first chapter know Riddle = Voldemort. As do select Slytherins, such as Draco because some parents want their kids to know who to suck up to. The rest if the Slytherin house knows something is up with the new defense teacher but how is that a new thing? They do get that whatever is going on is big.**

 **At some point I'll rewrite this story and post it on AO3 but I'm not very much better than this yet so it'll wait. In the meantime have a new chapter. I'll try to make it nicer than the ones before for easier readability.**

 **To the guest reviewer on Dec 28** **th** **, thank you for your constructive criticism. I do apologize for the mess that is this entire work thus far, but I will try to improve it as I continue. This is the most and the fastest I've ever wrote any story so I hesitate to go back and edit while I have momentum. To that end I won't do so until after it is complete, but as I notice comments about specific problems you have I will do my best to fix those issues in the upcoming chapters. Again thank you.**

 **Also a big thank you all for your avid interest in this story. The holidays are officially over for me after the 12** **th** **so I promise this will get updated again soon.**

It was late enough that the common room was empty, the fire place had only embers in it, and the only lighting was green from being filtered through the lake. It had been an emotionally draining night. _Should have begged the hat for Hufflepuff. No one pressures Hufflepuff and when you've had a near death experience they give you hot chocolate and cookies. Stupid Ron and his stupid hug filled house._ Who needed success when you could have someone waiting to see if you were okay when you stayed out all night?

"Potter." Started out of her internal whining, Heather jerked her head towards the couch. Draco sat on it, elbows on knees and hands linked in front of him. _That's twice now I've been snuck up on. Sirius is going to kill me if I survive to next summer._

"Malfoy." Her voice betrayed her exhaustion, but otherwise was pleasant enough.

His hair stood out, but the rooms poor lighting made it hard to see anything useful like his expression. "Late night tryst?" Draco's tone was clear enough though. He was mad at her for some reason and looking to pick a fight.

 _What's new?_ For once she couldn't return the sentiment. Since the end of last year things had been getting worse. Fighting with Draco just didn't solve anything anymore. There were more important things to focus on. Which is why she had made the truce.

"No business of yours if there was one. What jealous?" She couldn't help tacking on the barb. Goading him was just too easy, and habit now from nearly their entire association with one another.

Draco had moved closer to her, and Heather's adjusted eyes caught his fists tightening at his sides. Surprisingly she didn't see his wand. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as if to steady himself. "What if I said I was?"

He was right in front of her now, but unlike their countless other fights that wasn't where she wanted him. _This isn't proper at all._ Her mind supplied unhelpfully when she probed it for an answer. Of course it wasn't appropriate. This was Draco. Enemy at worst, not quite friendly rival at best. The one point of predictably in her life had just made things complicated.

"It was just some business with Professor Riddle and Snape. Not that it's any on your concern." Heather said to stall for time. Her mind kept shying away from the implications of Draco's words. Instead it pointed out she _did_ always apply all due respect to Riddle in his professor persona, while Snape got the same antagonistic behavior he gave her.

Somehow Draco managed to move even closer. They weren't touching but there was no room between them either. Heather was almost afraid to breathe. _This isn't right._

"I find myself very concerned with you as of late." He was taller than her… of course he had always been. But it hadn't seemed important in the way it felt now. She was aware of her heart racing, perhaps she was afraid. Heather didn't know why exactly, just that it felt very intense in a way all of her near death experiences hadn't. His eyes were searching hers and she had to admit that this close – not taunting or enraged – Draco's face was attractive.

Heather could even give credence to the idea that perhaps she had always liked how well-spoken he was when he chose to be. It even felt nice to be at the center of his attention in a positive way with him speaking like that towards her... She didn't know what to say, couldn't actually speak if she had.

For a moment she felt something pass between them, not magically but real all the same.

Draco's hands came up to hover above her arms and his face began to close the distance between them. Her heart slammed to a halt and Heather sucked in a sharp breath and took an abrupt step back.

"I'm afraid." Her voice was too high and loud after the quiet moment they had been sharing. Like a secret wound, what had passed felt too raw to be exposed. Heather's hands nervously smoothed down her skirt and her eyes focused to the left of Draco's head. "I'm afraid that your father wouldn't approve of your behavior Draco."

This was true statement. The head of the house of Malfoy would be looking to make the most advantageous match for his heir. The arch nemesis of his lord and master probably wasn't ever going to be on his list unless Voldemort went up in flames and Heather was named the cause. "And neither do I."

Well honestly at this point she was beyond knowing what to feel or think about this at the moment. But it wasn't proper for him to ambush her like this, even if realistically there was no good way for him to approach this subject...but trying to kiss her? Now? Her life was a mess and she did not approve of this rushing feeling inside of her. Rushing in got her nothing but trouble.

"My mistake." There was so much emotion there, it made her stomach tight. It made Heather want to take it back. But no. She wouldn't, couldn't. "I suppose you're not interested in honest emotions, just ways to trade yourself for personal gain. Very Slytherin of you. Who knew the girl who lived is just a common two sickle w-" His words were sickening – streaming out if him without thought or censor and she responded the same way.

Heather's hand meeting his cheek stung but hurt less than his words. His words echoing her aunts in her head. She _wasn't_ , she _wouldn't_ , she _didn't_.

"You dare?" That was the voice of the Malfoy she knew. The angry brat ready to enforce his birthright upon all of those around him. But the familiarity was lost and before her stood a different sort of villain.

"No you dare!" Heather's voice was loud in the empty room, but she no longer cared. "Do you believe that you or a single one of your father's friends understand the situation between the Dark Lord and I? Do you believe you have some sort of right or say on who I may or may not see romantically? Do you think that just because you are the heir to one of the sacred twenty-eight, you may behave like an utter prat and girls will still feel honored about any advances you make towards them inappropriate or not? You presume _much_ Malfoy."

Her own anger surprised her. She had done nothing wrong. Nothing. How dare anyone judge her and say otherwise. And simply because her reaction wasn't the one he desired, that didn't give him the right to try and make her feel small.

Heather looked him up and down once as he struggled to respond. "Goodnight Malfoy."

She left him standing there and headed to her bed. Despite all of the mess she was in there was one thing less to feel guilty about. Heather had kissed a monster but so what? She didn't go about snogging just anybody, and she didn't plan on starting. Draco had pushed her to that realization.

She may have felt something for him, but she didn't just give in because he wanted her to it. Because of any benefit it would gain her. She didn't even give in because she was tempted. No. If she was going to date anyone they would have to respect her.

Heather practiced shielding her mind and eased into a positive slumber. Thankful that the awful day was over and one step closer to reconciling with herself.


End file.
